From the Mouths of Boys
Dec. 11th, 2003 09:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ciroccojChris, coming out of the boys' room, where he fell asleep while putting them to bed. He wanders groggily into the study, glances at the computer screen, squints and turns away.
"That's too bright. So I'll look at you instead. (pause) 'Cause you're not too bright."
***
Daniel, talking about a character in a movie. "Yeah, she's selfish. But she's still OK. She's not a bad sort, once you get to know her."
('not a bad sort'? What are you, 70?)
***
This morning, it's raining and I send Justin outside while I get my keys. I come out to find him standing in front of the drainpipe, peering at it curiously.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm waiting."
"For what?"
"For a spider. To come down the water spout."
***
I don't know why, but lately I've been feeling rather down about the whole hysterectomy thing.
Or rather, I know why, but it doesn't make much sense. I've been put on yet another hormone, stronger than the last one, and it's still not quite working. I no longer know what it's like to not be bleeding or spotting. And this latest thing is supposed to make me gain weight, lose hair, and have all sorts of other nifty side effects. So I'm going to ask if we can move the date of my hysterectomy up a little - January or February, instead of April or May. I'll just have to miss some classes and hope I can make it up by exam time.
So. I know why. But there's no real logic to it.
So I won't be able to have kids any more, so what. We weren't terribly sure we wanted another child in the first place - our marriage is shaky enough without adding sleeplessness into the mix, and I don't know if I'd survive having 3 boys in the house, and I want to be able to devote more time to Daniel and Justin and a new baby would put a big damper on that, and it's very, very nice to be able to sleep through the night and not have to deal with diapers, and I have no wish to breastfeed again, and babies may be cute but they're a hell of a lot of trouble, and I know I'm very very lucky to have already had two children before becoming infertile, and I'm already infertile so really taking out my uterus isn't going to change anything fertility-wise, and and and...
But I keep remembering how great it was, being pregnant. And how much I wanted that part of baby-making again, at least. The new baby thing sucks, but pregnancy was wonderful for me both times.
I don't mean wonderful in a "I feel physically wonderful" way, not really. I actually felt like crap, physically - I had what's laughingly referred to as "morning sickness" all day for about 4 months, both times. And heartburn that nearly drove me insane in the last trimester with Daniel, not quite so bad with Justin. And carting around an extra 50-60 pounds and retaining water was no thrill either.
But the emotional part of it... it was one of the best experiences I've ever had. Feeling the baby kicking. Feeling all glowy-maternal. I even loved how I looked, which I don't when I'm not pregnant. Not that I hate my looks, but they don't really register in my mind beyond, "Am I clean and non-repugnant?" When I was pregnant, I felt beautiful in an Earth-mother kind of way.
Hearing the baby's heartbeat, feeling my round belly, seeing the ultrasounds... it was just magical. Knowing that I was nurturing a human life, keeping a little tiny being safe and warm, and giving him/her everything he/she needed for nine months... there just aren't any words that can really convey how incredible that is.
I even... well, "enjoyed" isn't the right word for it, but I didn't hate childbirth. It was horrifyingly painful, but it was a good, useful pain. And the wonder of seeing my child at the end of all the pain made it all worthwhile. (I know, I know - probably the fact that both of my births were quick and completely uncomplicated has a lot to do with my fond nostalgia towards them. Still.)
I even thought, around the end of my second pregnancy, that if we ended up deciding not to have another child for ourselves, I would look into surrogacy. I figured it would be a good way to help somebody who hadn't been as blessed as I was, and a way of getting the good stuff from pregnancy without the not-so-great baby stuff afterwards. It wouldn't have been as big a sacrifice for me as it would be for other women who didn't enjoy pregnancy or labour.
Oh well.
I'm trying not to think about this too much, but every so often, there it is. I see a pregnant woman on the street and think, God, you're so lucky.
I remind myself that I've been very lucky too, but it doesn't always help.
My mind keeps skittering away from this, because I don't really like to dwell on unpleasant things. I may have mentioned before that while I'm a sucker for fic-angst, I'm not a big fan of the real thing. Jack McCoy bemoaning the loss of Claire Kincaid? Sure, no prob. I'll even get all weepy over it, provided I'm at home by myself and not in a library. Because I can put it away once I'm bored of the angst.
This? Doesn't go away. Not so nice. So mostly I'm just trying to logic or distract myself out of any sadness, and for the most part, I'm succeeding. It just doesn't always work so well.
"That's too bright. So I'll look at you instead. (pause) 'Cause you're not too bright."
Daniel, talking about a character in a movie. "Yeah, she's selfish. But she's still OK. She's not a bad sort, once you get to know her."
('not a bad sort'? What are you, 70?)
This morning, it's raining and I send Justin outside while I get my keys. I come out to find him standing in front of the drainpipe, peering at it curiously.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm waiting."
"For what?"
"For a spider. To come down the water spout."
I don't know why, but lately I've been feeling rather down about the whole hysterectomy thing.
Or rather, I know why, but it doesn't make much sense. I've been put on yet another hormone, stronger than the last one, and it's still not quite working. I no longer know what it's like to not be bleeding or spotting. And this latest thing is supposed to make me gain weight, lose hair, and have all sorts of other nifty side effects. So I'm going to ask if we can move the date of my hysterectomy up a little - January or February, instead of April or May. I'll just have to miss some classes and hope I can make it up by exam time.
So. I know why. But there's no real logic to it.
So I won't be able to have kids any more, so what. We weren't terribly sure we wanted another child in the first place - our marriage is shaky enough without adding sleeplessness into the mix, and I don't know if I'd survive having 3 boys in the house, and I want to be able to devote more time to Daniel and Justin and a new baby would put a big damper on that, and it's very, very nice to be able to sleep through the night and not have to deal with diapers, and I have no wish to breastfeed again, and babies may be cute but they're a hell of a lot of trouble, and I know I'm very very lucky to have already had two children before becoming infertile, and I'm already infertile so really taking out my uterus isn't going to change anything fertility-wise, and and and...
But I keep remembering how great it was, being pregnant. And how much I wanted that part of baby-making again, at least. The new baby thing sucks, but pregnancy was wonderful for me both times.
I don't mean wonderful in a "I feel physically wonderful" way, not really. I actually felt like crap, physically - I had what's laughingly referred to as "morning sickness" all day for about 4 months, both times. And heartburn that nearly drove me insane in the last trimester with Daniel, not quite so bad with Justin. And carting around an extra 50-60 pounds and retaining water was no thrill either.
But the emotional part of it... it was one of the best experiences I've ever had. Feeling the baby kicking. Feeling all glowy-maternal. I even loved how I looked, which I don't when I'm not pregnant. Not that I hate my looks, but they don't really register in my mind beyond, "Am I clean and non-repugnant?" When I was pregnant, I felt beautiful in an Earth-mother kind of way.
Hearing the baby's heartbeat, feeling my round belly, seeing the ultrasounds... it was just magical. Knowing that I was nurturing a human life, keeping a little tiny being safe and warm, and giving him/her everything he/she needed for nine months... there just aren't any words that can really convey how incredible that is.
I even... well, "enjoyed" isn't the right word for it, but I didn't hate childbirth. It was horrifyingly painful, but it was a good, useful pain. And the wonder of seeing my child at the end of all the pain made it all worthwhile. (I know, I know - probably the fact that both of my births were quick and completely uncomplicated has a lot to do with my fond nostalgia towards them. Still.)
I even thought, around the end of my second pregnancy, that if we ended up deciding not to have another child for ourselves, I would look into surrogacy. I figured it would be a good way to help somebody who hadn't been as blessed as I was, and a way of getting the good stuff from pregnancy without the not-so-great baby stuff afterwards. It wouldn't have been as big a sacrifice for me as it would be for other women who didn't enjoy pregnancy or labour.
Oh well.
I'm trying not to think about this too much, but every so often, there it is. I see a pregnant woman on the street and think, God, you're so lucky.
I remind myself that I've been very lucky too, but it doesn't always help.
My mind keeps skittering away from this, because I don't really like to dwell on unpleasant things. I may have mentioned before that while I'm a sucker for fic-angst, I'm not a big fan of the real thing. Jack McCoy bemoaning the loss of Claire Kincaid? Sure, no prob. I'll even get all weepy over it, provided I'm at home by myself and not in a library. Because I can put it away once I'm bored of the angst.
This? Doesn't go away. Not so nice. So mostly I'm just trying to logic or distract myself out of any sadness, and for the most part, I'm succeeding. It just doesn't always work so well.
